


Blame It On Arya

by Mirime



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Clearing Out Fanfic Folders, F/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Prompt Fill, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, old fanfiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-30
Updated: 2014-05-30
Packaged: 2018-01-27 14:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1713938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mirime/pseuds/Mirime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old fill for a fic meme prompt: <i>Sandor wakes up naked beside Sansa and can't remember how he got there :D what happens next is up to you...</i> Written in 2012.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blame It On Arya

**Author's Note:**

> This is from one of the older comment fic memes over on sansa_sandor LJ community. I think it was the_moonmoth who prompted it. I found it recently in my files and decided to post it.

Waking up with a hangover after a night of heavy drinking wasn't anything new to Sandor Clegane. If he had a dragon for every time it had happened to him... Bugger it, it was too early to count but he was sure it would be a lot. He blinked to clear his eyes and only then became aware of a weight on his left arm.

Oh seven hells, he hoped it wasn't a woman he had paid for last night. He tended to fuck them, pay them and send them away. Only, he frowned, trying to recall the previous night, he usually remembered the experience. And he had been in no mood last night to buy himself a woman, either. Maybe he just got his arm stuck under something.

With that reassuring thought in mind, Sandor turned his head only to see a tangle of red hair on top of an undeniably female body curled at his side, a thin white shift clinging to every curve his eyes had been incredibly familiar with from watching over the woman those curves belonged to every single day.

"Bugger me!" Sandor groaned as he realized that Sansa fucking Stark had somehow appeared in his bed, dressed only in her nightclothes and he had no fucking clue just how she had come to be there. Racking his brain for an answer, he couldn't come up with anything. He could remember drinking wine at dinner, though not nearly enough to excuse the hangover, then he recalled stumbling to his room - he took a quick look around and, fuck, this just kept getting better, it was not his room - stumbling to some room, then and falling asleep. At least he thought so.

Sansa shifted in her sleep and rolled over, taking the blanket that covered them both with her and there was another discovery - he was naked. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Could this get any worse? Apparently it could as the sight of that temptingly covered body made him hard immediately.

"Oh, bugger it," he mumbled, rolling over, intent on stumbling off to a privy, wherever it was and taking care of himself before he tried to find his clothes and get the hell out of here - wherever here was - before Sansa woke up.

His plans were cut short as she did just that, blinking twice before she smiled at him.

"Good morning," she greeted him. "How are you feeling?"

"I have a hangover," he replied slowly, his brain trying to catch up with the events. Why wasn't she screaming? They didn't exactly have an understanding between them or anything to excuse their current position.

"That is to be expected," she commented idly as she sat up, averting her eyes from his naked back.

"What happened last night?" he blurted out, taking the blanket from her and drawing it over his lap as he sat up as well. Now that he was focusing better, he could see they were in her room. He rarely got to see it, since he tended to leave her at the door after he escorted her in from the dinner.

"You do not remember?" she asked and when he shook his head in denial, she pursed her lips in disapproval. "She should have known better," she murmured and Sandor had a sinking realization of just who was the "she" Sansa was talking about.

"The wolf b-girl?" He caught himself at the last moment, remembering Sansa's lecture on the topic of his less than complimentary nickname for her younger sister. Sansa nodded, reaching for a robe hanging on the bedpost.

"She drugged your wine, something from Lys or Myr, I did not pay too much attention."

"She what!" he roared angrily, about to stand up and march out of the room, making good on all of his threats he had made years ago when he had been forced to spend months in the wolf bitch's company. The pounding in his head and Sansa's sudden blush as her eyes darted down to the slipping blanket made him reconsider. _Priorities, Clegane,_ he reminded himself. _Dress first, strangle the girl later._

"Where are my clothes?" he asked in what was, considering the circumstances, a calm voice.

"First you must promise you will not hurt her," Sansa demanded and Sandor could only stare in disbelief.

"She drugged my wine, you said so yourself," he reminded her but she shook her head firmly.

"She did not mean any harm. It was a harmless jest."

"A harmless-" He almost choked in his fury. He had completely lost any sense of himself for several hours. He had woken up naked in bed with a woman he had been lusting after for years. The things that could have gone wrong with that scenario were too terrifying to even contemplate. And she was defending her sister?

"Sandor." She turned to him, that reasonable tone she used on unruly bannermen and misbehaving Rickon alike in her voice. "I did not say she would go unpunished. What she did was wrong and she will answer for it. Only, you will not be the one doing the punishing."

"As you wish, my lady," he replied sarcastically. "Could you at least tell me just how did I find myself in your bed and naked?"

She was blushing for sure now. She turned away, gathering his clothes.

"Instead of incapacitating you at once as Arya had planned, the augmented wine merely made you appear as if you were drunk. When I tried to send you to your room so you could sleep it off, you, ah, insisted on attending to your duties. You walked me to my room as usual before you collapsed."

Sandor winced. That must have been a sight, not to mention embarrassing.

"You were too heavy to move by myself but when I came back with help, you were already undressed and in bed. I thought it better to leave you as you were," Sansa explained before handing him the bundle of his clothes, not meeting his eyes at all. He accepted them mutely, one last question left to be answered.

"Why did you sleep next to me?" He did his best to make his question as bland and uninterested as he could.

"I wanted to be close if you needed help. And I did not see any reason for giving up my bed when it is big enough for us both," she defended her decision, her face matching her hair in colour and he almost reached out to touch it but he had learned to curb those impulses years ago. He settled for asking the obvious instead.

"Don't you worry about the gossip?"

"Not really," she muttered in a soft voice. "After all, it cannot get any worse than what it already is," she added as she slipped out of the room, leaving him alone to get dressed. And even though it hurt his head to laugh, Sandor Clegane couldn't help but chuckle.

Truer words had never been spoken.


End file.
